


Uglies

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 03:51:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13091832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: On the road, disguised as humans, Castiel and Meg are on their way to an ugly sweater party for Cas's job. Meg has other plans.





	Uglies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BunnyRabbit246](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyRabbit246/gifts).



     “Hey.” Dean strode into the bunker’s main study, where Sam sat at the table, his eyes glued to his open laptop.

     “Hey,” Sam replied. Without looking up from the computer screen, he lobbed a bottle of beer in his brother’s direction. Dean caught the bottle with one hand and wedged the cap under the edge of the table, popping it off with one fluid twist of his wrist. That particular edge was scarred with dozens of deep, rounded scratches into the varnish; he’d had practice at this. He tipped the bottle to his lips and slid down into the seat across from Sam.

     “Hear anything from Cas?”

     Sam shook his head. “I left him a voicemail. He changed his outgoing message, something about a party?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Anyway, you know he’s been kind of tied up ever since Meg’s been back.”

     “Bad choice of words.” Dean shuddered, remembering the time he’d walked in on them in the dungeon.

     It was true. A few months back, after the veils between the realms had started opening, a bedraggled blonde girl had had crawled out of a ditch outside of Wyandotte and promptly passed out. They’d found the article on this same computer; the way the locals who’d witnessed it had sworn the woman’s eyes, before she closed them, had been completely black.

     A strange look had passed over Castiel’s face when he’d heard them say that, and he’d disappeared, returning with a very familiar limp body in his arms. He’d kept her in the bunker for weeks, slowly healing the extensive damage to her body. One day while she was still sleeping, he had dyed her hair black again, the way he knew she liked it. It had been almost sweet, watching him care for her.

     That is, until she got her spirits back. Then she became, once again, the demon they knew – sarcastic, occasionally outright mean, and utterly shameless. Castiel loved it, but the two of them were clearly wearing out the Winchesters’ welcome by the time they appeared in the study and announced they needed to take to the road. It was something to do with the opening veils, important angel and demon stuff, the details of which the brothers were better off not knowing.

     Under other circumstances, they might have pushed back, might have demanded more information, but at this point they were so relieved to have their space back, they just let them go.

     Now, some months later, their angel friend’s correspondence had become more sporadic and what, exactly, he and Meg were doing out there seemed less and less clear whenever they communicated. It would be concerning if it went on like this for too long, but for now, as always, there was work to do.

     “Anyway,” Sam said, “I think I found us a case.” He slid the laptop across the table as Dean scooted his chair around the corner to get a closer look.

 

     Meanwhile, several hundred miles away, in a modest roadside motel, a seemingly ordinary couple were getting ready for an unusual party.

     “This is stupid, Clarence,” Meg complained, stretching out the glittery knit of the reindeer-patterned sweater to examine the tiny rhinestones glued to the creatures’ noses. “Why do people do this? Wait, wrong question. We’re not even people. Why do _we_ need to do this?”

     “Because,” Castiel replied, straightening his own sweater, which depicted Santa Claus inexplicably riding a snowmobile, “we need them to _think_ we’re people.”

     Meg sighed and reached out, laying her hand over his so that the matching cheap wedding bands they’d bought around the same time they came here and rented this room – chosen because, compared to an apartment, it didn’t require nearly as much proof that its occupants were actually human - overlapped and glinted in the fluorescent overhead light. Cas stopped smoothing the fabric and let his hand rest under the weight of hers. He turned to look at her. The expression on her face was one of concern, almost like the human wife she was pretending to be, but as Cas regarded her, an idea seemed to flash across her face, twisting her soft smile into a devilish smirk. The hand on his started to move, teasing little circles on the back of his where she knew it drove him wild.

     “Hey, instead of going to this ugly sweater party, we could just stay and bump uglies here,” she said.

     Castiel made a face. “You know I don’t like it when you call it that.”

     “I know, because you think it’s a delicate flower.” Meg lifted her skirt tauntingly high, exposing her legs up to just before the point where her thighs connected, making sure he understood exactly what she meant by _it._

“I never said that.”

     “I know you didn’t… I think your exact words were, ‘it’s beautiful.’” Meg said the words in a mocking tone, the light still dancing in her eyes, but as soon as she finished, her face softened. “I love that you think I’m beautiful, Clarence.”

     Cas knew what she was saying. She would always say it this way… never those three words, _I, love,_ and _you_ alone together, but always surrounded by just enough other words to cushion her from the impact of their meaning. He always grasped it anyway. “Me too,” he said, responding to what she hadn’t said rather than what she had. He slid down the floor to join her and their sweaters, along with the rest of their clothes, were quickly discarded, the party forgotten.

     “It _is_ beautiful,” Cas said, just before he kissed her in that favorite place of his, rewarded as always with the sounds of her unrestrained pleasure. The motel walls were thin as paper, but Meg never cared who heard them.

    

     Hours later, as they lay spent and satisfied in the pile of their hastily strewn clothes, Cas sighed. “But now, what am I going to tell them at work tomorrow?”

     “Tell them your wife got suddenly sick. Tell them the only cure was for you to stay home and fuck her brains out.”

     “Meg-”

     “I know, I know, you don’t like it when I call it that either.” She laughed and ruffled her fingers through his already messy hair. “Actually, though,” she said. “Skipping that stupid party to stay here and” - a pointed look from Castiel shut her up before she could blurt out another colorful euphemism – “do _that_ , might be the most human thing we could have done.”

     She kissed him again, and they burrowed under the ugly sweaters, holding each other for their warmth instead, and even Meg had to admit there was something beautiful about that.


End file.
